


Nowhere To Go But Forward

by hook



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Incest, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hook/pseuds/hook
Summary: Everything went as usual. Until it didn’t.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Hop
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	Nowhere To Go But Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Edited typos 1/30/20 oops

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Whenever Leon visited home, he’d stay up late talking with his little brother. Sat on the edge of Hop’s bed. It was a ritual at this point - Hop excitedly chatting about his Wooloo, new strategies he was developing, how ace Leon had been in his latest match, and the match before that, and the match before _that_.

Leon would listen with rapt attention, steering the conversation back to Hop whenever it got too focused on _him_. He loved the way his brother’s eyes glinted, the way his voice pitched up when he felt truly passionate. When their conversation inevitably wound down, Leon would give him a kiss on the forehead, ruffle his hair, and head off to his own bed.

Everything went as usual. Until it didn’t.

Hop yawned. Leon told him he should get some rest. Hop laughed it off. And as Leon leaned down, lips pursed, ready to bestow the ceremonial kiss, Hop turned his head with a laugh to insist that he was grown enough to stay up late on a weekend. He tilted his head up. He angled it just enough. Leon wondered if it was planned, but he knew it wasn’t, even as their lips barely touched. Eyes wide, then averted. Stillness. Cheeks flushed redder than the flame of Charizard’s tail.

Leon wouldn’t say what came over him. His tongue slipped out, he’d insist to wet his own lips (they were so dry, so suddenly, how had he not noticed?) and of course, in the process, he caught the smallest taste of Hop’s.

Leon’s throat closed. “Sorry.” He meant to say so firmly, to pull away and laugh at the absurdity of it all. But his voice was barely a breath, and they were still so close.

Time stopped. He could smell the light scent of wet wool. Familiar shampoo, the brand he advertised for but didn’t use himself. Laundry soap he knew since childhood. And something else, distinctly human, distinctly Hop, that he would never in his life be able to place, except here, except now.

Later, when he thought about it (not that he thought about it, of course not, there was nothing _to_ think about), he would blame that moment. The moment when Hop’s tongue brushed Leon’s lips. An accident. It must have been an accident. But.

Leon’s eyes closed. He leaned forward. Full contact. His brother didn’t move away.

Leon’s mouth opened. Hop’s did, too. Their tongues touched. Twisted together. Hungry. Desperate.

The room felt isolated, enclosed in a fragile bubble. Nothing existed beyond the salt-sweet taste of lips, saliva, the sharp intake of breath through their noses as they refused to pull away. Hop’s hand hovering close to his shoulder, barely brushing the cotton of his shirt, uncharacteristically timid.

Leon felt the wrongness of the situation vibrating up from somewhere inside him, like the deep thrum of thousands of fans chanting when a match came down to the wire. His brow creased. In a desperate bid to fight it down, he did what he always did - threw himself forward, riding on instinct.

Hop fell back for him, the mattress creaking under their combined weight. But a hand dug into his hair. Another, vice-like on his waist. Leon kept his own firmly planted in the tangle of sheets and blankets. Stable. Controlled. He sucked on Hop’s tongue, stomach curling in knots upon knots upon knots, complex and beautiful and disgusting.

Leon dragged his teeth over Hop’s lip, and Hop responded in kind, mimicking his older brother’s motions. Leon could almost laugh. He didn’t have anything to teach anyone in this area, but Hop trusted him to show the way. It stoked the flames, drove him harder.

Leon drew his legs up onto the bed, straddling Hop’s thigh, looming over him, mouths sealed together. Hop’s hand tangled more tightly in his hair. Fingernails dug into his back. Leon couldn’t help but break away and gasp, strings of saliva bridging their kiss-bruised lips.

“Lee…”

One word. Familiar, comforting, home. Breathed hot against his lips in a way he’d never heard it said before, prayed - no, feared - he’d never hear again. With that one word, Leon felt temperature in the room drop.

What was he _doing_?

They breathe against each other. A long moment, growing longer.

He sits up. A gasp escapes him. A laugh, almost. But the tension sticks and doesn't break. Everything held together with the finest, most delicate web. It could all come crashing down.

So he stretches, a stretch that sloughs off Hop’s hands, fingertips dripping off him like napalm. He rubs the back of his neck. He’s talking, but can’t quite make out his own words. Smiling, standing. Just like he did every night he was home. Looking down at Hop, reaching out, smoothing mussed-up hair, but this time, something keeps him from looking into his brother's golden eyes.

“...g’night, Hop.”

\-------------------

Leon woke up to the clatter of dishes downstairs, his mum’s voice faintly reverberating up through the walls. He sat up and stretched, grabbing a hat off his shelf to cover up his bed-head before he made his way down to the kitchen, still in his pajamas.

Hop already sat at the table. But that was good. That was where he was supposed to be. So Leon beat back the weird feeling filling his chest, threatening to drown him, and ruffled Hop’s hair as he walked by on his way to the fridge. When Hop responded with a laugh and a smile and a playful jab, as usual, Leon felt it drain away, replaced with something light and airy.

The day seemed to fly by at double speed. Leon caught up with Sonia over lunch. He spent the better part of the afternoon meeting with fans, and a little time training with Charizard. Dinner was a warm, home-cooked affair, as he expected from his mum, and afterwards he let Hop beat him at video games.

In no time at all it was late, and he was sitting on the edge of Hop’s bed, listening to his little brother yamper on about the fattest Skwovet he’d ever seen digging in the trash outside Wedgehurst Station and how it tragically ran away before he and Wooloo could show it what-for (or even get a good snap for that matter).

Hop interrupted himself with a yawn. Leon fell right in step with the usual script, unthinking. Hop looked at him. Relaxed. Maybe he was blushing. Leon didn’t want to look too closely.

He should say something. About last night. But Hop seemed okay, and Leon felt okay, and if they never talked about it, it may as well have never happened.

Right?

Leon leaned forward. Maybe he was aiming a little low. Maybe Hop was angling a little high.

Maybe, this time, it wasn’t an accident.

They sank into each other with alarming intensity, Leon pushing forward hard and fast, dizzy from the slickness of their tongues together, teeth roughing up already bruised lips. Hop’s hands knotting in his hair, pulling their faces closer. Rustling sheets and wet, hungry gasps.

Leon pulled back to breathe, resting their foreheads together. Eyes closed, as though he were protecting himself. He didn’t remember when he’d put his hand on the back of Hop’s neck, but he could feel the warmth radiating off of his brother, feel the deep and even drawing of his breaths.

He let his hand glide from neck to shoulder, pushing himself up. He felt heavy. The floorboards groaned loudly beneath his feet.

“G’night, Hop.”

\-------------------

The next time Leon was able to visit, Hop and his Wooloo met him at the station. Hop looked taller than last time and Leon said as much, and as they walked together back home down the twilit path a light mist swirled around their feet. Leon let Hop fill the silence, hanging off his every word. Still, even with Hop leading him, Leon almost missed their house.

Inside, Hop kicked off his shoes and boisterously announced Leon’s presence, adding he was going to get ready for bed.

Leon said hello to their mum. He chatted a bit, but soon told her he was feeling tired from the train ride. He wished her good night.

And then he was in Hop’s room. Like actors on a stage, they took their places.

Their conversation stuttered, punctuated with laughter, pressure building as the words tumbled from their mouths, faster than normal, racing toward a common goal. Eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, and when Hop said he was feeling tired, Leon didn’t hesitate. He leaned down, only to have Hop lean up to meet him. They crashed together with with wild fervor, mouths joined in a secret bond.

\-------------------

A new pattern established itself after that. 

No, not new

Enhanced.

Modified.

Neatly compartmentalized within Hop’s bedroom.

Essentially, nothing had changed. That’s what Leon told himself. They would have their nightly conversations, Leon would kiss Hop (more feverishly than he used to, until they panted and ached, coiled too tight, ready to break) and part ways.

He didn’t think about what Hop did afterwards. As for Leon, he left the room and crawled into his own bed, curled on his side, breathing deeply and calmly, the way he did after one of his exhibition matches, until his whole body relaxed and he succumbed to sleep.

\-------------------

Several weeks later. Some movie Hop had put on played on the television. It wasn’t particularly important to Leon, beyond the fact that Hop had chosen it. Their mum was out, probably until late.

Leon would be ashamed to admit he wasn’t paying much attention to the plot on screen. He couldn’t help it. The spark of his focus was laser-trained on every move his brother made. Unconsciously analyzing, formulating, and strategizing. An instinct that served him well as Champion.

As a brother, it felt like more of a hindrance.

Until today it was easy enough to keep _that_ part of him contained. The staging needed to be just so. Their spoken lines, improvised to fit the pattern. Maybe it was the emptiness of the house that transformed the living room from a neutral, familial space to something different. Something tempting, and dangerous.

Hop kept getting closer. Natural movements. Unplanned. No ulterior motive. Leon didn’t like the way his heart skipped a beat each time Hop shifted in his place or their knees bumped together. Leon leaned on the arm rest, body angled away. There would be plenty of time for closeness before bed, he thought, and immediately regretted it as his stomach soured.

He shouldn’t even be _thinking_ about that, much less be looking forward to it. Doing so suggested a level of control he had spent the last month steadfastly refusing to acknowledge.

Yet, for some reason, Leon couldn’t get comfortable. The opportunities presenting themselves urged him to act. Every time Hop looked at him. Nudged his leg with his own. Tensed with anticipation. He pushed himself off the armrest and swayed back toward Hop. His arm sandwiched between them uncomfortably, so naturally he must move it. He propped his elbow on the back cushions of the couch. He couldn’t help if his fingers were brushing the back of Hop’s neck. It was right there.

Hop grew quiet. Out of the corner of his eye, Leon could see his brother looking up at him.

He weighed his options. Ignoring Hop’s intense gaze would be the safest and easiest solution. But Leon didn’t like safe and easy. He could reassure him, tell him anything he might be considering could wait until later, before bed. It would temper the roiling feelings before they bubbled over into a place they didn’t belong. However, even one word would betray their vow of silence, dismantling the unspoken agreement protecting them.

Leon’s eyes stayed forward, trained on the colorful images flashing across the screen. He had forced himself into a corner. A rookie mistake. The fingers on Hop’s neck traced small figure eights just below his hairline, then stopped.

Sudden clarity. The perfect play. Brilliant.

Leon smiled and looked down at Hop. The lamp in the living room cast shadows on his brother’s face in an unfamiliar way, making his expression hard to read. Leon tilted his head. Eyes half-lidded. He knew what he was asking for, but he shouldn’t. Not here. This was wrong.

Later (and, for better or worse, he _would_ think back on this) he’d remind himself it was part of his genius strategy. Just like luring in a heavy hit with a type disadvantage only to strike back with Counter, things would play right into his hand. Hop knew this was wrong. He’d rebuff him, or simply ignore Leon’s challenge. A brilliant move. He could almost hear the roar of the crowd.

He was not prepared for Hop to accept wholeheartedly.

When their lips meshed together they didn’t part, even as the credits began to roll. All Leon could hear was their mingling heavy breaths. Without thinking, he pushed Hop back onto the couch, asserting his knee against Hop’s crotch, feeling the pounding in his heart and the hardness in Hop’s groin. Goosebumps rippled over his body. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

He _needed_ to stop.

Leon sat back, catching his breath. His hand rested on Hop’s chest. He could feel it rise and fall, rise and fall. So regular, so reliable. Familiar golden eyes looking up at him with an unfamiliar cast.

It was like a fog swallowed him up.

Nowhere to go but forward.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
